Look
by Bitter-Sweet Teardrops
Summary: The first time I saw her, I became captivated with her. So captivated I couldn't help but look at her, to observe her, learn her. She captured my interest, like a flytrap captures a fly. And something sparked inside me, like fire to oil. And I was caught.
1. Look

All my strange notes are at the bottom, so people who dislike reading them don't have to put up with them until the end…^.^

DISCLAIMER: By some stroke of luck, Bleach does not belong to me, since my name doesn't start with a K, nor end with an E.

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**Look**

The first time I saw her, I became captivated with her. When my amber eyes locked with her violet ones for the first time, I felt an unexplainable tug in my chest, and excited fluttering in my stomach. Something happened, something between us connected, something totally unexplained, and entirely unexpected.

I wondered, after that night my family was almost slaughtered, what this strange feeling was. I pondered why I felt this strange feeling. Why I felt this strange connection, something which I had never felt before. And why I felt this strange tug, like some unknown force was pulling me toward her, and yet, I barely knew her.

For so long in my life, I have been the anchor for others. I couldn't loose myself, for my sisters. I had to pay attention at school, learn, and do well in life for my father. I had to keep my family safe, for my mother. For so long, I was their link to the world. But when I met her, something inside changed, and my firm grasp on this world loosened ever so slightly, my feet left the ground ever so faintly, my reason for living strayed ever so indistinctly off the path I had planned for myself. Because when her violet eyes locked on mine, something happened, and it sent me plunging head first and unaware into a land of unknowns.

Up till now, I still haven't quite figured out how it all happened. When I saw her, I was enchanted. Enthralled. Captivated. It was her eyes, at first. They were like unending pools of violet, windows into her heart, yet they seemed so devoid of happiness, so empty and unanimated when I first saw them, that I wanted to look at them. To watch them, observe them. Maybe find some sort of sparkle in them. I wanted nothing but to stare into them, and get lost in their indigo depths and read them like an open book. Because they fascinated me. They trapped me, and held my interest, like how a flytrap traps the fly. It was also her hands. So small, and white, yet calloused and strong. They bore the signs of hard work, of hours of practice, endless amounts of time and effort. Working to obtain mastery of her sword. Practicing the releases, her _shikai _and _bankai_. Because she fascinated me so much, I looked at her when she stayed with me. I looked at her carefully. Memorising every detail about her, the way her hair rests on her shoulders, the sensitive arch of her nose, the soft yet determined lines of her mouth, the long dark eyelashes which framed her doe-like violet eyes, the artistic curve of her eyebrows, her petite figure, the way she carried herself, everything I looked at everything. I wanted to know her. To learn her. To study her.

So I did.

Leaning against doorframes, I watched as she practiced calligraphy. I observed the way her slim wrist moved, how it flowed with the pure black ink, guiding it across paper to draw the eloquent art of writing. Looking through windows, I fixed my gaze on the way she walked, the way she ordered things, neatened things, and kept things. I watched how she watered plants, and looked after her garden. How she tenderly cared for her flowers, and vegetables, pruning them. It was fascinating. I yearned for more. Something within me urged for more, craved for more. It was like an addiction, she was like my drug. She held the reins, and I was the horse. I followed her direction. And as the want to learn more increased in me, I looked at her more. I watched her, scrutinised her. The way she cooked, the way she made tea, the way she served food, the way her eyes crinkle slightly when she smiled, and turn into half-moons when she laughed. I watched all of it. But what enthralled me the most was the way she fought.

With seemingly effortless movements, she guided her sword. Practicing with unlimited patience her _shikai_, trying her hardest to reach the next level of _bankai_. For a normally impatient and impulsive person, her treatment of her sword and skills never ceased to impress me. She never gave up, even when she was sweaty and exhausted, she'd always try some more. During battle, her composition and skill caught my attention once more, like so many of her other attributes. When I watched her fight hollows, noted how neatly she disposed of them, usually only needing one swipe to take care of them while I needed at least two when I first started.

Executing complicated sword dances flawlessly, with such smoothness, something which I could never hope achieve, yet, she was still never happy, never satisfied with herself. She was like an ant, always working, doing something of value, she hardly ever wasted time, something which I found hard to believe. She was beautiful in my eyes. She was like someone not from this world, and in a sense, she wasn't. She used to be, but she wasn't anymore.

And when I watched her, I felt that unexplainable tug in my chest increase, pull harder. That magnetic field around her increase, pulling me closer, drawing me in. It surprised me, and caught me unawares; I was so focused on learning all I could about her I hadn't realised what was happening until I was too far in to cleanly get out. The more I looked, the more I wanted to do new things. I wanted to touch. I wanted to feel her hair between my fingers, touch her smooth skin, and hold her dainty hands in mine. But no, I knew I couldn't yet. There would always be a glass wall separating us. She was dead in this world; her soul belonged in the next. I was still alive, still breathing, my heart was still beating, no, I couldn't reach her. Because the thick glass wall of death stood between us, and neither of us can overcome it.

And whilst I was tangled up in feelings and emotions, I never noticed her peeking back sometimes. I never really noticed until a little later, but at some point in time, she _had_ started looking back at me. For a while, it was only me. Only me watching her, learning her, studying her. But at some point, she started looking at me. Studying me. Learning me. I didn't realise, but when I noticed, I felt that unexplainable tug pull harder than ever before. I wanted the touch more than I ever did. Because when she looked at me like that, when she studied me, and learnt me, something lit up inside, like a fire which takes to oil, and is constantly fed the fuel. It never died down, it only kept growing. Though I wanted to touch, I knew that it wasn't going to be possible. I knew I wouldn't get close enough, because even if I did, I would not touch her, I would only touch the thick glass wall of death which separates us. For a time, I was content to just sit and watch. For a long time, all I wanted to do was to watch. So I ruthlessly squashed those flames, taking their oil away, snatching the oxygen so that they would eventually smoulder down into embers and then, to nothing. But the more I tried to smother them, the larger flames. They grew higher, wider, larger, until they encased me in a cage of fire. I wanted to get closer so badly, so desperately, but I was just to far away. The distance between us was just too great.

So when she looked at me, I looked away. It hurt me to do it, pained me, because the pull was strong. It was too painful to look anymore. It was too painful to watch, knowing that there could never be anything more. So I resisted the pull. I staggered the opposite way, when she looked, I ignored it. Because I couldn't stand it anymore. I could never touch her. She was so far above me, so far in front of me. Even if I ran, even if I rushed, I would never catch up. And my fire slowly died down again, down to small flames, to glowing embers, and then to nothing but ash. And for a while, I was free, but I didn't feel happy. I didn't feel free. Instead, I felt trapped in my own little world. Staring at the weakly shimmering path in the midst of black. Nothing but black. The small light which had been illuminating it seemed to flicker, and die. Leaving me in total blackness once again. Just like it had been for my whole life. Just like the first days after mother died. I thought I'd enjoy it. I thought I revel to be in familiar territory once again, but it felt so empty now. So hollow without the small glow in front of me. And I found I missed the small but strong presence. And I wanted it back again. And that was when I realised that I needed her to look at me. I needed her to watch me, learn me. But I didn't want her to. I didn't want to be learned, to be watched.

So still, I ignored her. I ignored her glances, her fleeting looks. I ignored them in favour of pursuing what I had always pursued before she had come, and turned into my light.

But the way she looked at me, so forlornly, the way her usually masked eyes filled up with so much want, and when the want turned into despair when I turned away each time she looked, I couldn't help myself. I couldn't resist any longer. So one day, when she looked once more, I peeked at her. It was only for a split second, but I know she saw it. And in the moment, she offered a small smile. And the path in the darkness which she and I walked one seemed to shorten a little. Though it was still cut in half by a wall, the distance between us seemed to close in a little, and she became a little clearer. And I became a little closer. And my path seemed a little brighter, and the small, but strong presence appeared at the front once more.

So the next time she looked, I looked back for a little longer. And I saw that small smile widen just a little. And it felt like some had just sparked a small flame again. And the next time she looked, a looked back, for just a little longer still. And her smile widened a little further, and some of the sparkle appeared in her eyes. And my fire grew a little brighter. And the distance between us seemed to shorten just a little more. The light shimmering at the front grew a little, and the path I was stepping began to shimmer some more.

The more she looked at me, the more I looked back. Without realising it, my steps began to get a little faster. As the fire within me was fed more fuel, the distance between us seemed to shrink more, and more. With every step I took, her image became larger, closer, and the sound of my footfalls increased.

Closer…

_Closer…_

I was getting so close…

The closer I got, the more she smiled, and the slower she walked. It was like she was waiting for me, purposely slowing down so maybe one day, we could walk the path together. And as I closed in, and reached my fingers out, I touched the smooth surface of glass. And I saw her face fall, and I realised, that still, I was not close enough. And my fire suddenly extinguished. As I lifted my head so my eyes could reach hers, I knew that they were filled with despair. I know they painted the picture of giving up hope. But she shook her head. And the fire in her eyes told me that I was close. Closer than I thought I was. They strengthened my wilting resolve, and with a renewed desire, I began to break the wall. Digging, hitting, crushing, cracking. Little by little, I began to break the glass, and little by little, the wall began to crumble. And the knowledge that I was close, that if I passed this, I could finally get closer, made me smile. And I offered her a small smile. And her smile widened a little more. And she reached out a hand, and stretched out her fingers.

"_Come on! You're almost there. I'm waiting, I'm holding out for you."_

The glass wall crumbled a little more.

"_Just a little more, you're getting closer, your so much closer."_

And a large crack appeared, like a spider web in the glass.

"_Don't give up! Just reach out once more, and the glass will break!"_

And then, the wall shattered, and my clothes turned into black robes. My shoes into sandals, and my sword appeared on my back.

And my outstretched fingers brushed hers.

The small smile on her face widened further, and her eyes sparkled once more. And the fire burned brightly once again.

_I'm tired of looking. I'm tired of wanting. I'm tired of needing. _

I want…to touch.

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-- END –

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And that is the first in a (maybe) series of one-shots…or would you like something chaptered? I'm still working on actually updating chaptered stuff…my writing stamina is…horrible…but I do like one-shots…

I hope you enjoyed reading this, it's only my second time writing Bleach, so I may be a little…off…

BUT constructive criticism is _always_ welcomed.

Which leads me to the point of reviewing….please review, I like reading your messages, it gives me motivation to write, knowing that people out there like to read what I've written.

Tell me what you think; it doesn't have to be an essay, nor something long. It can be just a few words, but they would be greatly appreciated.

Please tell me whether you want this to go on…or not…and if you want something to happen in particular, then feel free to send a message, or just tell me in a review. Whichever suits you more.

Anyhow, enough of my ramblings, and thank-you for taking the time to read this little piece of writing.

-- Bitter-Sweet Teardrops


	2. Touch

**Hello! I'm back and apologising all over myself for making you wait and wonder what happened…All my blabber is at the bottom again, so people who don't like reading it don't bother with it until later. **

**Disclaimer: I don't know why I don't own this, but I don't. But I want to. But I don't. So there. **

**Happy reading!**

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**Touch **

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_To reach…_

_To touch…_

_To feel…_

_To hold…_

_And never let go…_

_That's what I want, but…_

_It won't be easy, will it?_

_She won't always be there, will she?_

_The walls that separate us will thicken and strengthen. _

_And then, I'll never get close, will I?_

_So I've got to start now, got to start running,_

_Start training, _

_Start getting strong._

_So when the time comes, and I'll have to break down those walls,_

_I'll be strong enough_

_To brush your fingertips._

_Only then, will I stop to take a rest._

_Because life hardly waits for us,_

_Right, Rukia? _

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The rainy day when Kuchiki Byakuya forcefully extracted Rukia's spiritual energy from my body was the day I felt the encasing feeling of despair and hopelessness. When I saw her cry, saw her shed tears because of _my_ stupidity, _my _pain, I felt my heart wrench in a way I had only experienced once and had no wish to experience again. And when she told me not to follow her, not to save her, I could hear the sadness and worry in her broken voice, and the undertone of anger which she directed at herself, but lashed out on me. And in the undercurrent of the undertone, I thought I detected a faint silver of happiness. It might have been happiness at saving my family, or just a feeling of accomplishment in a mission, but when I noticed it, I felt even more useless than before.

I knew that I deserved less than her words of reprimand. I deserved worse then just the small beating which I had received. But she took what I should have received for taking all her energy and not returning it, and gave her small consequence to me. And I saw the path I had seemingly cleared of walls being suddenly broken again, twisted and shredded, the shimmering light taken away once again, blocked from me with an even thicker barrier, combining the forces of death and shinigami, and I knew that however hard I tried, I would not be able to break this wall alone.

The invisible hand of desolation squeezed my heart when I watched the Senkai gate closed, and the last shadows of _her_ disappeared from my blurring line of vision. And now, alone and in the company of no-one save for myself, I let the unbidden tears of heartbreak and loss slowly slide down my face into the pooling rain and blood around me. Because in the time she was with me, the purely platonic feelings must have turned into something more. And in all that time, I had only managed to look, only managed to brush the tips of her fingers, yet the magnetic field around her seemed to increase in strength everyday. And I was so close to being able to touch, and I thought I was almost there. But now, she's been taken, dragged so far ahead. I knew that by only running, I would not reach her.

I only barely registered that fact that it was raining outside, around me, because I could only hear the rain in my heart, the patter of crimson tears it shed in an attempt to relieve itself from the harsh, suffocating squeeze of defeat and grief, formed in a puddle around its gaping tear, and slowly, everything else faded to black, and maybe, after a long while, the rain stopped. But the jagged rip which had been its cause never really healed until the day she began sewing it up again.

When I discovered the long curl of spiritual energy nestled deep within me, I stretched out my hand to desperately grab at the lone crimson strand. While fighting hollow transformation, I vowed to myself that I couldn't, no, that I _wouldn't _loose this battle. If not for myself, then for the woman who saved my family at the cost of her life. I couldn't loose because I was so in debt to her, I couldn't let her pay the price for something that I had done to her. So I trained to become strong. Strong enough to enter Soul Society, strong enough to find her, and string enough to defeat her brother. Something similar to instinct told me that I would be face the stoic Captain in my pursuit of his younger sister. This same captain's strength far surpassed my own at this moment, and if I wanted to win against him, then I knew that I would have to push myself over my limits to even stand a chance.

So I did. Really, when I though about it afterward, it was not the honour of saving her, or the endearing feeling of adrenaline coursing through my veins which motivated me to push my limits as far as I did. No, it was for a truly and utterly selfish reason. I felt that I had too much to loose if I let her go. I wanted to get closer to her. I wanted to be the one she trusted and went to for comfort, for protection, for help. I had already studied her, and studied her well, but when she began to show me the other side of her; I found that my yearning for knowledge came back faster and harder. And I wanted to keep pursuing her, because she was special, and she had caught my attention like no-one else had. Because I knew I was selfish like that, and for once, I didn't let it go.

The day that I saved Rukia from her execution at Soukyoku, I felt my fingertips just graze the exterior of her being. I touched only the very outside of outsides, but I was happy. So happy. Because I saw her eyes, and even though they were filled almost to the brim with reprimands and declarations of how stupid and idiotic I was, there was an undercurrent of joy and surprise, joy that I had come and surprise that I had succeeded. And when I watched the conflicting emotions (I was trying to guess whether she would hit or hug first) flash through her eyes, I knew that even though I had only grazed her outer surface, I must had unknowingly tapped something inside. And that thought alone made me happy. Because it meant that she was opening up some, letting me see a little bit more of her, lowering her guard down a little, so I could only peek at the tender and sensitive personality that was concealed and sheltered behind her strong and protecting exterior. The more time I spent with her, the more I could feel her getting used to my presence. I would reach out sometimes, and more often than not, she would shyly reach back and touch my fingertips, but then, she would retreat, like a mouse scurrying back into the familiar zone of its hole. A few times, I just caught the small smile which graced her face before she replaced it with her normal serious look, but the fact that I had seen it remained, and it gave me a sense of accomplishment because I had taken a small but significant step, like a baby who was just learning to walk. And then one day, she reached out of her own accord and lightly touched my fingers, as if she was asking me if she could hold onto me. And delight slowly spread through me when she slipped her hand into mine and held it.

When I fought the Captain of the 6th Division, I let myself go. I executed the result of all my training, and I showed him my bankai. When I felt the power that Zangetsu gave me flow through my veins, I felt slightly light-headed, drunk on power. It was very like the times I had spent in my bedroom, gazing at the ceiling and revelling in the new 'data' I had gained, the new familiarity I had with my small, but beautiful shinigami guest. And despite myself, despite the fact that I was in the middle of a fight for life or death, I let a small smile make its way onto my face. And then, with that comforting though behind me, I felt ready to face anything. And Kuchiki Byakuya was no exception.

Soon after Byakuya had lowered his sword against mine, when I was still riding on the elation of defeating someone who really was strong, Aizen Sosuke began wrecking havoc in Soul Society. And he turned it into a real and bloody battleground. I knew from the moment I felt Renji's reiatsu spike that something was heading for them. Pangs of urgency washed over me as I waited for Orihime to heal me, because even though Rukia was special, Renji was a friend, and both were important.

Renji was bleeding, and injured when I arrived. And Rukia was pressed against him; eyes wide with fright and shock. It hurt me to see that she was trembling, and the ever-growing part of me which stayed finely tuned to her began to rage. As Renji used the last of his energy and strength to create an opening for me, I felt the rage and anger that I harboured at those who hurt my precious people begin to flow through my veins, spreading through my body like wild-fire, and when I saw the small opening, I streaked through the air, intent on hitting my mark…

When he lifted a finger and halted my sword. Everything slowed down, as I watched him bring up his sword and swipe across me, and then, all I felt was agony. Distantly, I heard a hiss of pain, and realised it was mine, but darkness was clouding my vision as crimson lifeblood seeped out of me and stained the ground. And before the darkness took over, I heard a thud and knew that Renji was down too. And once again, my heart constricted in despair and failure, because once again, I couldn't protect her, and even though I touched her, I couldn't save her. I couldn't keep her from hurt and pain. And when the darkness overtook me, I whispered two words and let the darkness win.

_I'm…_

…_sorry…_

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_The world will hardly wait for us,_

_Will it?_

_And time and death will hardly come and go at my bidding._

_Will they?_

_And all this time, all this effort…_

_Have I put in so much only to loose it all now?_

_I can't…_

_I don't want to…_

_I couldn't give up now…_

_And let the pain of today take away the joy of the future…_

_Am I going to die like this, or am I going to go down fighting with a smile?_

_I came so far, I can touch you now. _

_I can see you, and you're closer, maybe closer than you or I realise._

_And together, you and I…_

_We make up one soul,_

_One mind, _

_One body._

_So no. I can't go down like this. _

_Because if I have to fight for you, I'd need to be alive to do it._

_Isn't that right, Rukia?_

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_End_

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And this is the second part of the story.

Look out for the third part: **Soul**, which I'm beginning to write, but haven't finished yet. I'll try to get it out before I go on holidays for eight days, but I'm sorry in advance if you have to wait a bit for it.

I know I probably messed up the timeline a bit, but its fanfiction, isn't it?

Also, I've decided to make this a chaptered story, since only **one** lovely person decided to give me feed back on whether a chaptered story would be good or a series of one-shots, so thank-you to: **Black Sun Upon An Icy Sky** for that. No-one answered my poll question…I feel so unloved… *cries*

Well, I don't really like this chapter, it kind-of seems out of the mood, and stuff, and I don't think it is as good as the first because it had more fighting in it, and I wasn't sure how to describe the fights…very…emotionally without making all the action seem out of place, you know?

So please send a review to tell me what _you_ think and like/dislike about this. Constructive criticism is very welcome, but bitching is not. So yeah. Though I don't think any of you are the bitching type. xD

So enough of my blabber and I look forward to comments!!

-- Bitter-Sweet Teardrops


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